The Prostitute and the Spies
by Joyce LaKee
Summary: Rahab's conversion story
1. Chapter 1

The Bible is the divinely inspired word of God. It should be obvious to any reader that my story is only an extrapolation of an existing scripture and is in no way intended to be on the same level or accuracy as the sacred authors. In other words, no imprimatur or nihil obstat.

KITCHEN GOSSIP

"So, did you hear the news? The Isrealites are coming," Ishta said, tearing off a piece of bread and popping it into her mouth.

The three women were busy preparing for the evening meal and the rush of customers who would arrive to eat. Rahab, cutting lamb for the cook-pot, merely rolled her eyes, but Vashta snorted scornfully.

"I heard that, Vashta," said Ishta indignantly between bites. "My customer told me last night. He said all the men are talking about it. He said--"

"He said--he said," Vashta laughed. "By Baal, you believe everything people tell you. No matter how absurd."

"But he told me all about it," Ishta insisted. "Furthermore, they have a very powerful God. My customer says their God dried up the Red Sea just so the Isrealites could walk through." Ishta lowered her voice to a mumble. "I don't see our gods doing things like that." She reached for a date to munch on.

"Ishta," Rahab said, warningly.

"What do you think, Rahab? Maybe they are coming," Ishta said.

"I think you need to stop eating the customers' food. Vashta and I will continue cooking. You clean up. Broom's in the corner."

Ishta began sweeping.

"Isrealites coming," Vashta mocked. "You are so gullible."

"Rahab--" Ishta whined.

"Girls, please. You give me a headache, both of you. Ishta, the Isrealites aren't coming here. Stop listening to everything the customers tell you--it's gotten you into trouble in the past. Your job is to serve the customers food. You provide any extra...amenities they request. But, you don't have to listen to every word, every piece of idle gossip they bear. Besides, you know perfectly well that part of the reason our customers come back is because they can trust us not to repeat tales. They know that what goes on in our chambers stays in our chambers."

Ishta's face fell, and Rahab relented her harsh words. "Don't look so sad, Ishta. Listen--that story about the Red Sea--are you aware that it happened a very long time ago? My mother was a little girl when the Isrealites took up residence in the desert. Think about it--if they were to move, wouldn't they have done so many years ago?"

Rahab patted Ishta's shoulder kindly. "Don't lose too much of your innocence, Ishta. The men do find it appealing."

Vashta, stirring the pot, shook her head.

Rahab smoothed her robes and put on her jewelry. "I think I hear some customers in the front. I'll go see what they require." She straightened her veil and left the room.

"Idiot," Vashta hissed at Ishta.

THE MERCHANT

"Welcome to my inn, men," Rahab greeted her guests. "Come in and rest. Supper is almost ready. Let me pour you some wine." She poured and passed the wine around.

"It's good to be in a city again, among civilized people. It feels like we've been traveling in the desert forever," the leader of the men said gratefully as he lowered himself into the nearest seat.

Rahab pushed a cup of wine at him. "Drink, then. What business drives you into the desert?" She asked, although she had already guessed. She had learned a long time ago that her customers loved talking about themselves.

"I'm a merchant. I travel to distant lands to find the rarest and costliest goods. My illustrious clients demand the best, and I give it to them."

By Baal, what a pompous ass, Rahab thought contemptuously, but she smiled at him and looked impressed.

"In fact," the merchant continued, "By clever dealing, I was able to bring back a little extra." He reached into a bag tied around his waist and brought out a gold ring set with a red stone. "A beautiful woman like yourself deserves something fine like this." He took her hand and slipped the ring on her finger.

Rahab stared at the ring. Whatever shortcomings the man's personality might have, he did at least have exquisite taste in jewelry. "I do believe our best room is currently vacant," she said with a wink and a sly smile.


	2. Chapter 2

The Bible is the divinely inspired word of God. It should be obvious to any reader that my story is only an extrapolation of an existing scripture and is in no way intended to be on the same level or accuracy as the sacred authors. In other words, no imprimatur or nihil obstat.

BY THE WINDOW

Late that night, Rahab sat on some cushions in her room, arms resting on the windowsill, staring out over the countryside. This was her favorite time and place to do her thinking. She never brought customers to her own chamber--it was for her own use only.

Much to Vashta's dismay, Rahab had chosen to entertain the pompous merchant herself. Vashta was sure it was greed on Rahab's part, but Rahab knew the man's type--if he got unrully or demanding, Vashta would never be able to handle him, despite all her bravado. But Rahab was able to get through the evening without any untoward incidents and now she was back in her room, brooding.

The merchant had told her the same story Ishta had told them before dinner about the Red Sea. Rahab wondered if it were only a coincidence or a portent of something coming. In all her years of running the inn, she had heard all sorts of stories; secret family scandals, political machinations, even business deals. But something about this story made her uneasy. If only she could figure out what that something was.

IN THE MARKETPLACE

Vashta entered Rahab's chamber early in the morning, looking concerned.

"Rahab," she said, "I don't want to say anything in front of Ishta, but the strangest thing happened to me last night. One of the customers, a traveler, told me a similar story to the one Ishta's customer told. How the Isrealite ruler, named Moses, stretched out his hand over the sea in order to turn it into dry land for the Irealites to walk through. Do you think it means anything?"

"The only thing it means is that people who travel in the same areas are bound to hear the same stories. In other words, it doesn't mean a thing," Rahab replied. She was busy arranging her jewelry and painting her eyes. "Now, run along and get the morning meal ready. I have to go to the marketplace."

Rahab tucked a large basket against her hip and left the house, carefully walking down the steps that led to the street, leaning as close to the inner wall as possible. Sometimes people fell down the stairs if they weren't careful, and Rahab didn't want to be one of those people.

Rahab knew many of the townspeople by sight, and many of the men in particular. She would make her way through the streets of the town, with a langorous sway and a bold, almost mocking expression which potential customers found intriguing. She would engage them in conversation and use the opportunity to tell them about the comforts of her inn. Whenever business would wane, she would make the rounds of the streets and solicit more.

When she arrived at the marketplace she saw a group of men who some of them were former customers of hers. She walked right up to them, and they stopped talking to look at her appreciatively. She put her hand on the shoulder of one of them.

"I haven't seen you for the longest time! Why haven't you come to visit Rahab?" She gave him a playful, reproachful gaze.

"Oh, you know how things get busy. I've been out of town a lot, you know."

Rahab laughed. "Oh, yes, I know the excuses of men." She rolled her eyes comically, and his friends laughed. "Anytime you want to come by, we might be able to make some accomodation for you." She turned away to leave, but not before she winked at the richest looking man in the group.

The marketplace was always full of excitement and Rahab found it exhilarating. There were the brightly dressed shoppers haggling with merchants, sometimes quite loudly. Foreigners with their exotic appearances and wares were seen coming and going and then there were the street performers.

Rahab tried not to look at the poor and the beggars. Some of them were lame or blind, and it made Rahab uncomfortable to be around them. Sometimes when her discomfort was very acute she would give the most pathetic looking one some bread and walk away before she could be thanked. Sometimes, she had the uneasy feeling that it wasn't fair that some people were so wealthy and lived a life of ease and some people were so poor and suffering was their daily lot. Then she would comfort herself by remembering that she was neither rich nor poor, that she had troubles of her own, and at least she didn't go around beating up on the poor for sport.


	3. Chapter 3

The Bible is the divinely inspired word of God. It should be obvious to any reader that my story is only an extrapolation of an existing scripture and is in no way intended to be on the same level or accuracy as the sacred authors. In other words, no imprimatur or nihil obstat.

THE TALK GOES ON

Vashta and Ishta were busily carrying food back and forth between the kitchen and the eating area, flirting with the customers and pouring wine. Rahab was kept busy between overseeing that the work was done properly and greeting the newcomers.

As Rahab put her face out the door, trying to catch a whiff of fresh evening air, she saw three very tall people approach. She knew these men--they were some of her regulars. The shortest one was a good two heads taller than she, and all of them had to duck to get through the doorway.

For some reason or another, some of her townsmen were very tall this way. These men liked to say that they were descended from gods or spirits. Rahab didn't think so, but she wasn't about to start an argument with a good, paying customer, either. If they wanted to think they were the sons of spirits, it certainly wasn't any of her affair. She seated the men with her usual friendly smile, and took their orders, and gave them to Vashta to tend to.

Much to her shock, when she came back later to check that their food was okay, they were discussing the Israelites! Her shock then turned to annoyance. You would think that nothing ever happened in Jericho before.

"The way I heard it," the first man was talking,"their God told their leader that all he had to do was stretch his hand over the sea to make the waters move enough for the Israelites to pass dry and on foot. Then, after the Israelites passed, their God made the waters rush back into place."

"Drowning the Egyptian army in the process, and their horses and everything. They were washed up on the shore later--the Egyptian, I mean," said the second man.

"Is the food okay?" Rahab interrupted.

"Yes, fine, fine," the third man waved his hand at her dismissively. "Then what happened?"

"Well, you see..." the men continued discussing the case as Rahab left them alone to finish the meal. She turned around to see Ishta looking at her, knowingly.

"It's been this way for how many days now? And you still don't think there's anything to it?" Ishta asked.

"Don't you have to deliver that food instead of standing around talking?" Rahab replied irritably.

AND ON…

Rahab was waiting tables one evening when she was disturbed to realize that she was trying to hear for snatches of conversation regarding the mighty deeds the Israelites' God had done for His people. After all the years she had plied her trade, she had become used to the chatter of men; their boastings about their wealth and strength and prowess. From time to time the talk would turn to political matters, wars, the day-to-day challenges of carving out a decent living. Rahab would allow the talk to swirl around her and she rarely paid too much attention. The fact was, much of it bored her, and little of it really affected her own daily life.

She thought about what Ishta had said that one afternoon about the Canaanite gods not showing displays of power like the parting of the Red Sea. Rahab had shushed her because she didn't want Ishta's foolish chatter angering the gods and bringing down bad luck on them all. After all, life was hard enough without challenging the unseen powers on top of it all. But, maybe Ishta was right--maybe the Israelites were right. And, Rahab had to admit; she had often secretly wondered the same thing--why her gods never displayed such mighty deeds.

Rahab felt as if she could no longer dismiss the claims of a God with such power over nature. Or at least, she felt that it was reasonable not to dismiss such claims. That was as far as she was willing to go. But on the other hand, she was avidly listening to the chatter of men, trying to learn anything new.

She had lived in Jericho all her life, but had never seen the men so interested in a new story. Rahab decided that the least she could do was hear what they had to say--that was reasonable, wasn't it?


	4. Chapter 4

The Bible is the divinely inspired word of God. It should be obvious to any reader that my story is only an extrapolation of an existing scripture and is in no way intended to be on the same level or accuracy as the sacred authors. In other words, no imprimatur or nihil obstat.

"Hope to see you again and soon!" Rahab said farewell to her customer, a wealthy Egyptian merchant. Yet another customer talking about the Israelites. However, this customer was different than most of the men who had been talking lately. He actually was from Egypt. He had heard the story of the drowned Egyptian army from his own grandfather. The merchant himself had been deeply impressed as a youth with the power the Israelite's God had displayed over the army and over death itself. He had even taken out one of his scrolls and read the story to her. Rahab couldn't read or write, but as she listened, had found herself really paying attention to his every word, not just pretending that the man's story was worth listening to.

At that moment, Rahab heard a scream coming from within her house. She whirled around and ran towards the sound. Then she heard another scream. It was Ishta. Rahab had seen her go with a customer earlier, and she ran towards the man's room.

Pushing her way into the room, she saw Ishta cowering in the corner, arms up to protect her face. The customer was standing over her, menacing her.

"Help me Rahab," Ishta cried, "He refused to pay me, then he hit me!"

"You hit one of my girls?" Rahab asked the man, who had turned to face her.

"She was impudent; she refused to do as I asked," he said haughtily. Rahab's hand moved casually towards the little dagger she kept hidden on her person.

"I did so do what you asked! Most of it anyway. But he wanted--" Ishta shrugged.

Rahab looked at Ishta and at the customer. Ishta was flighty and silly, but she was a hard worker and Rahab had never known her to lie. The customer was unarmed--he had left his possessions in the corner opposite where Ishta was standing. Rahab was in the middle of the room.

"Apologize to her," Rahab said to the customer.

"I will not."

"You will apologize and pay her, too." Rahab continued.

"And if I don't?"

With a sudden movement, Rahab pulled out her dagger and pointed it at the man. The man tried to lunge past her for his sword, but Rahab was quicker and she stuck him in the arm. He howled and grabbed his injured arm, and Rahab backed up to the corner and grabbed his sword. It was too heavy for her to swing, but she could lift it. As he made another lunge for her, she sidestepped him, hoisted the sword and shoved it through the room's one window, holding it precariously with one hand and pointing her dagger at him with the other hand.

"You will apologize to Ishta and pay her what you owe her, or this sword goes out the window. If I drop it, you will have to go outside the city walls to retrieve it. So. Are you going to do what I say?"

Muttering fearful curses, the customer sidled over to his bag and pulled out the required amount, even as Rahab kept the dagger pointed at him. He gave a very ungracious apology to Ishta, paid her, and then advanced on Rahab to retrieve his sword.

"Stop right there," Rahab said, "How do I know that you won't attack us as soon as you have your sword back in your possession? Fact is, I don't. So, you will still have to go outside the city walls. Call up to me and I will drop this to you. Then, I better not ever see your face in my inn again. Got it?"

The customer's face was contorted with rage at being tricked. He had fully planned on taking his revenge on both women when he got his sword back, but didn't think they would see that coming. Now he had no other choice but to leave the city entirely just to get his own property back. Calling both of them a bad name, he stormed out of the room.

"Rahab, I'm so sorry," said Ishta, starting to cry.

"In our line of business, sometimes you meet men like that. You just need the experience to know how to handle it."


	5. Chapter 5

The Bible is the divinely inspired word of God. It should be obvious to any reader that my story is only an extrapolation of an existing scripture and is in no way intended to be on the same level or accuracy as the sacred authors. In other words, no imprimatur or nihil obstat.

IN THE MARKETPLACE

Rahab sat on a small stone wall, leaning back against a palm tree. She had gone marketing again today, and she wanted to sit for a moment and get some relief from the heat of the day. She adjusted her jewelry and arranged her robes for an alluring and pretty effect before she settled in to listen to the storyteller. Rahab knew the stories and legends of her people, but she still enjoyed hearing them over again. Sometimes a person she knew would catch her eye, and she would smile at him before returning her attention to the storyteller.

No sooner had the storyteller arrived at the most exciting part of the tale when Rahab could hear some people discussing the Israelites. The Israelites' God did not hesitate to intervene for them in their times of need. He owned them and they belonged to Him.

Rahab was tempted to turn around and glare at the talking men and show her displeasure, but then she decided not to react. Getting the men to stop talking about the Israelites seemed to be a lost cause these days, and there was no point in alienating potential customers. But somehow, she couldn't enjoy the storyteller anymore, and some of the enjoyment had gone out of the afternoon for her.

THE KING

"You know, Rahab, I would never admit this in front of Ishta, but I'm wondering if there isn't something to this tale about the Israelites advancing."

Vashta and Rahab were alone in the kitchen, cleaning up. Ishta was with a customer.

Rahab shook her head, but Vashta continued.

"I heard it from a man last night, and almost the same story as Ishta told us, but he also said how the Israelites' God destroyed Sihon and Og, you know, kings of the Amorites. He told me the whole story."

"Now you're starting to sound like Ishta. You better watch yourself."

"No need to get personal," Vashta said irritably. "But Rahab, what if he's right? He sounded very sure of himself."

"What of it? So he's so sure of himself. What is this guy, a scribe? And anyhow, we've been over this before. The Israelites have been out in the desert for over 30 years. Maybe even 40. Just staying there. You know, I've heard the stories, too. The Israelites would have you believe that their God promised them a wonderful, fertile land for them to live in. It hasn't happened yet, has it? Like I warned Ishta, don't believe everything the customers tell you--or everything the Israelites say."

At that moment, Ishta came rushing in, bouncing excitedly. "The king is passing by our street! Come see, come see!" Then she rushed out again.

Rahab and Vashta grinned at each other. They both knew Ishta was infatuated by the king. After giving the pottery bowl she was cleaning one last swipe with the damp cloth, Rahab followed Vashta to the front door.

The procession of the king through the streets was quite stately, and the king was fully conscious of his own importance as the people stopped to watch his progress.

Ishta sighed. "I wish he'd come here sometime."

"Don't be such an idiot," Vashta retorted. "Why would he come here when he has an entire luxurious palace to enjoy? Not to mention women a lot more good looking than you."

"Hey!" Ishta said angrily and elbowed Vashta in the ribs.

Rahab, standing behind the two girls, sighed as they started in quarreling. Then she rolled her eyes and turned to go back to the kitchen. Ishta was rather an idiot. She didn't realize that it didn't matter what the man looked like. What mattered was that he was a good, paying customer.


	6. Chapter 6

The Bible is the divinely inspired word of God. It should be obvious to any reader that my story is only an extrapolation of an existing scripture and is in no way intended to be on the same level or accuracy as the sacred authors. In other words, no imprimatur or nihil obstat.

RAHAB AND HER MOTHER

"I hate it when it's my turn to get water. I hate carrying it up all those steps," Ishta complained as she brought the last pail of water into the kitchen.

"You just hate the carrying. You know you love the gossip at the well," Rahab replied unsympathetically.

"Well, that's the only good part about it," Ishta said. "All the women were talking about how Israel conquered Sihon when Sihon would not allow the Israelites to pass through his territory. All the women were saying how we're in so much danger if we get in the way of Israel."

"Yes, yes, I know the old stories, Ishta, and we've been through this over and over in the last few days. I'm tired of hearing about it. Go find something useful to do and don't bother me with this Israelite nonsense anymore."

Rahab took off her jewelry and put a plain cloak around herself. Tucking the profits she had made into her robes, she went out to visit her mother.

Rahab's mother was sitting at her loom, weaving cloth. Rahab hugged and kissed her, and pressed the money into her hand.

As always when Rahab brought her financial contribution home, her mother felt shame and sorrow. The family didn't push Rahab into making money the way she did, but they had done nothing to prevent her, nothing to dissuade her, had never tried to talk her out of it. Of course, they would comfort themselves, their family was in dire financial straits when Rahab had taken control of the inn; farming wasn't bringing in enough money to live on, and there were so many brothers and sisters. Rahab's mother felt especially guilty. She had hoped Rahab, her prettiest daughter, would make a good match someday, with a wealthy, powerful man. Then life intervened, and Rahab had turned to prostitution to help the family out of their crisis. It was even worse because Rahab never complained or reproached her family in any way. She just kept the inn running and brought home purses full of money on a regular basis.

"Mother, I've never seen anyone weave such fine linen as you," Rahab said, gently touching the cloth stretched out over the loom.

"Thank you, and how goes it?"

"Business is still good," Rahab said, avoiding her mother's face. Rahab didn't like to see the guilt in her eyes whenever she mentioned her business. Rahab didn't blame anybody in her family, and didn't understand why they blamed themselves. "But all the customers are worried about the Israelites--they think an attack or siege or something like that is imminent."

Rahab's mother sighed sharply, and Rabab turned to look at her. "Your father thinks the same way," Rahab's mother said quietly.

"You're kidding me!"

"Rahab, a lot of men don't like to say anything to the king, but amongst themselves, they are all afraid. I hear your father and brothers talking. They have to be careful of what they say and to whom, but morale is low all over."

Rahab thought that over. She had been hearing a lot of talk, but come to think about it, she was hearing it in her inn, where people were away from the king's guards, and in the marketplace, but never in the hearing of the king's men. They didn't hesitate to talk in front of her, but she was only a woman.

"I'm afraid, Rahab," her mother said, breaking into her thoughts. "They have a strong and powerful God who protects them." Then she lowered her voice to a whisper. "What do we really have?"

Rahab had no answer for that.

THE TEMPLE PROSTITUTES

Rahab walked in the street, alongside the casement wall surrounding her city. She had no particular place to go on that morning, but she just wanted to get a breath of fresh air and walk in the sunshine.

However, Rahab was well known, and privacy was a luxury she could only indulge in her own room at night, when her work was all done. People greeted her, the men friendly, the women less so.

As she walked, some beautiful cloth on a merchant's stall caught her eye, and she went over to look at it more closely. She had been thinking of making a new robe, and she thought the color would look good on her.

She could overhear the conversation of the people around her, and she usually ignored it and concentrated on her own thoughts, but it was a conversation about the Israelites, and she felt compelled to pause and listen.

The man at the next stall was saying to his companion how Og and his army marched out to meet the Israelites in battle at Edrei.

"The Israelites claimed that their God said He had handed Og's army over to them, with the command to strike the king, his sons, and his army down, just as they had done to the king of the Amorites."

"I remember that--they took possession of his land."

Rahab didn't like that story. Didn't like to hear of the people who had been utterly conquered. It sent a cold chill down her spine. Besides, couldn't they talk about anything else?

It was for this reason that when the merchant quoted his price to her for the cloth, she snapped at him, loudly enough that the other shoppers turned to stare at her.

"You quote that price to me? That's outrageous! Do you take me for a fool? I won't even bother to haggle with somebody as stupid as you." With that, she stormed off.

She tried to walk off her irritation and soothe her jangled nerves by taking a different route home, one that took her by the temple. However, the haughty stares she got from the temple prostitutes were more than she could bear. They knew what Rahab was from her clothing, and they looked at Rahab as less worthy of respect than they because she provided her services for mere money, not for Sacred Ceremonies. One of the prostitutes whispered something to her companion as Rahab walked passed, and they both broke into scornful laughter. That was more than Rahab could bear. She stormed up the stairs of the temple, put her face close to the other woman's face and called her a foul name.

"How dare you," the temple prostitute said, outraged.

"Just see how I dare," Rahab replied, raising her fist menacingly.

The prostitute's friend held up her hands placatingly.

"Let's not have a fight here, you two. Remember the dignity of the temple."

With difficulty Rahab turned and walked away. The two prostitutes watched her go, relieved. Rahab might not have minded getting into a fight, but the temple prostitutes had to protect their pretty faces. After all, their clients didn't want to worship their gods with ugly women.


	7. Chapter 7

The Bible is the divinely inspired word of God. It should be obvious to any reader that my story is only an extrapolation of an existing scripture and is in no way intended to be on the same level or accuracy as the sacred authors. In other words, no imprimatur or nihil obstat.

RAHAB'S MUSINGS

Even though it had been some time since Rahab had heard the story of the defeat of Sihon, the Amorite king, she couldn't help thinking about it as she climbed the ladder to her roof and sat to think. She liked this spot to think, on the top of her dwelling, which was built into the city wall. From this point she could see the people entering and leaving the city, or if she looked a little farther, she could see out into the wilderness. She herself had never journeyed far from the city, but when she sat here, looking out, she could pretend to take journeys, meet new people, people who didn't know she was Rahab the prostitute. She could even start a whole new life. Not, she would quickly assure herself, that she would run away and leave her people to starve without the money she brought in. Only, she would sigh to herself, it was so nice to daydream.

Today as she sat and thought about the story of Sihon's defeat, she felt an odd emotion. Almost as if she herself were Sihon and being defeated. She leaned her back against the wall and simply let her mind run riot. Then, without warning, she felt as if something inside herself had broken. It was not painful or even particularly distressing, but something inside herself had changed. She came to the firm realization that her gods, the ones she had worshipped since childhood were nothing compared to the God of the Israelites. In fact, she thought daringly, maybe just maybe, they didn't even exist! Except as figments of all their imaginations.

Now her head started to ache. The world had seemed so simple up to this

moment. But could it be possible that she and all her people had been worshipping something imaginary? She supposed anything was possible. However, the thought made her angry. Their gods had supposedly demanded infant sacrifice. In fact, her own father's sister had been forced to turn her newborn over to the temple authorities. Rahab had been a little girl at the time, but she remembered her aunt's screams of anguish, how she had taken to her bed for a very long time. The temple had given the woman some treasures as compensation and had tried to explain to her what a great honor it was for the baby, but she had refused to be consoled. What if all her aunt's suffering really had been all for nothing? It was too dreadful to consider. But Rahab couldn't stop considering it.

RAHAB AND HER BROTHER

"So, their leader, Moses, led them into battle with Og," Ishta said. "The Israelites won, of course."

"Of course," Rahab said quietly. They couldn't possibly have lost. Their God was on their side. Rahab had a shocking new thought. What if she gave her allegiance to the Israelites' God? She wanted to. He was certainly much stronger than the gods she had worshipped all her life. He took care of his own people. Rahab wondered what she would have to do to ally herself with the Israelites, then she could worship their God. If the Israelites did come to Jericho, and she survived the tumult, she would seek them out and ask them.

Business was slow that afternoon, and she decided to take her profits home to her family. They also had a house in the city's wall, and it was easy enough to get there. She hid her money inside her robes and set out.

One of her brothers greeted her at the door. He was a friendly, easygoing man, and Rahab felt comfortable to ask him, "What do you know about the Israelites' God?"

"Rahab, I can't really worry about the Israelites' God when the Israelites themselves are about to advance."

"Do you really believe that?"

"You hear the news as much as we do, Sister. And, if I were you, I would be taking some precautions. Getting ready for a siege. In fact, I want you to keep some of this money. Put it in a safe place so in case the worst happens, you'll be able to buy and sell from whoever's in power when this is all over."

"Do you think it will be as bad as all that? That's disloyal talk. That's like treason."

Rahab's brother lowered his voice and ran his hand through his hair, nervously. "Little Sister, I wouldn't talk like this in front of everybody. You're different; you've had many years of experience at being discreet. But there is something else I need to say to you. You've helped support this family for years, and I want you to know how grateful we all are for the sacrifices you had to make. No home of your own, no husband..."

Rahab became frightened at his words. His speech sounded a lot like a last goodbye. She told him that with tears in her eyes.

Putting his arms around her, he said," I don't know where we'll all be when the time comes. If I'm alive, I will try to find you. But if I don't survive this upcoming battle, I need to know that you'll be taken care of. Promise me you'll put that money in a safe place."

Rahab agreed, too afraid not to.


	8. Chapter 8

The Bible is the divinely inspired word of God. It should be obvious to any reader that my story is only an extrapolation of an existing scripture and is in no way intended to be on the same level or accuracy as the sacred authors. In other words, no imprimatur or nihil obstat.

LITTLE SISTER

"Rahab!"

Rahab was wiping down tables when she heard the voice of her little sister calling her name, but she stopped long enough to embrace the girl.

"What are you doing here? This is no place for a young girl like you, you know that--we've agreed."

"I begged Father to let me come here, just this once. I wanted to talk to you, Rahab, I'm so afraid."

Rahab sighed and took her sister by the hand and led her up onto the roof, where they could talk in relative privacy. Furthermore, Rahab didn't want her sister exposed to the type of men who visited her inn, and didn't want her sister looked at by those men. When they alone, Rahab sat her down by the flax that her family had harvested and was spread out to dry.

"Now, tell me what you're so afraid of," Rahab urged.

"I heard our brothers talking about it." The girl said, eyes wide. "They say everybody in the town is on edge, but they don't like to say it too publicly, because they're all afraid of sounding like cowards and making the king angry."

Rahab sighed. She didn't have to ask what her sister was referring to, but the girl's terror was too real. "Go on," Rahab said gently.

"They said the Israelites are remembering the defeat of Sihon, and gaining courage to come and attack us, because their God defended them before. Our brothers said the men are becoming demoralized."

Rahab knew that was true. She had heard such talk all too frequently during the recent days.

Her sister started to wail, "Oh, Rahab, what if there's a siege? What if the Israelites conquer our town? What if they kill us all? Oh Rahab, what are we going to do?" The girl seemed to be near panic.

"Okay, okay, calm down. Calm down right now," Rahab commanded her sister. "There's no use in worrying about what might happen. What we need to do is try to make the best of the situation. I don't want to die at the point of an Israelite sword any more than you do, but here," she took some money from a bag around her waist and handed it to the girl. "If the worst happens, and you are captured by the Israelites, maybe you can barter for your freedom, or your life. I'm sorry, but it's the best suggestion I have. And keep the money hidden. Don't let anybody else know you have it. Okay?"

The girl sniffed and took the money.

"Now," Rahab said. "I want you to go on home. This place is no place for you." She patted her sister on the shoulder. "If anything does happen, I'll come looking for you." It wasn't much, but it was the best she could offer.

CONVERSION

Rahab remembered the stories she had heard about Og. He was the king of Bashan, an Amorite, and he was a giant. Taller than any man she personally had ever met. After the defeat by the Israelites, his territory was given to one of the groups of Israelites. She knew by now that the Israelites were divided into smaller groups, even though they were all called Israelites.

The town was becoming more and more uneasy, and Rahab was frightened. She got no satisfaction anymore from making money. She had lost her belief in the gods she had worshiped from childhood. She hated her principal source of income, and she hated that Vashta and Ishta were as embroiled in it as she. They were just young girls, after all. She had always told herself that without her, they would have been plunged into poverty, but Rahab was starting to wonder if there wasn't another way, a better way to spend one's life than to be passed around from man to man.

She sat on her cushions staring out at the horizon outside her window. Everything she had built her life on seemed so empty and foolish, if not downright wicked. Sorrow welled up inside her and tears dripped down her face as she rested her chin on her arms. She felt like something inside her was breaking, and she knew she had to abandon her former life. She thought about the Isrealites' God, although she didn't know how to find Him. She wanted the protection of their God, but she knew that mere protection wouldn't be enough to satisfy her anymore. She wanted to be counted as one of His people.

She looked around her room in disgust. She never brought customers here. She always met them in their own chambers. This room was all for herself, the one place she could be herself and not put on a mask to please others. However, this was where she kept her clothes and jewels and cosmetic paints, the tools of her trade.

Rahab got up and stared around the room, thinking. Suddenly, she ran out of her room, down to the kitchen and grabbed the biggest empty basket she could find. She dragged the basket back to her room and started throwing her clothes and cosmetics into it. The jewelry she would save to sell if necessary. The basket was soon full to overflowing, even though she had pushed everything down to the bottom as far as she could. She saved aside a couple of plain robes and veils and a cloak.

She stood a moment, undecided. She could sell the contents of the basket, but the only person who would be able to use clothing like this was another prostitute. Somehow, she didn't want to encourage somebody else to live her lifestyle. She dragged the basket down to the kitchen, and one by one, fed the clothes into the cook-fire.

Rahab was startled by the appearance of a very sleepy Ishta.

"What are you doing, Rahab? Why are you burning your beautiful clothes?"

"I don't want them anymore."

"Then give them to me! I've always admired the way you dress."

"Ishta, go wake Vashta and bring her here. There's something I want to discuss with you two."

Rahab was burning the last piece of clothing when Vashta appeared. Rahab poured them both a glass of wine and bade them sit down.

"Girls, I've made a decision. This inn will no longer be offering private services to the customers anymore. From now on, it will be strictly lodging and food. You understand?"

Vashta frowned. "But we get our best money from private services. What if we can't make enough to live on? You'll make us starve to death!" She wailed.

"Vashta, I consider you and Ishta to be my personal responsibility. As long as I have food to eat and a roof over my head, you will have the same. I'm not closing the inn; I'm just limiting the range of amenities we provide. I believe it's for the best."

"Since when do you believe in anything? This is just a silly whim of yours. You'll bring us all to ruin with it," Vashta hissed.

"Shut up, Vashta," Ishta said. "Rahab, I'll stay with you. I think this plan of yours may just work. Let's try it at least."

"Thank you, Ishta," Rahab replied, " But you must understand. This is neither a whim nor something I plan to try for a while. I won't be going back to prostitution, and I want you girls to give it up to. I don't know where this will take us, but this is how it's going to be."


End file.
